


His Fingers in Soil

by MonsterTesk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:23:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterTesk/pseuds/MonsterTesk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His fingers in soil, churning the earth until it's loose. The sun slips in between branches and leaves to light his hands as they work. A spotlight on a moment of peace. This is where one can rest. Out here where poison grows wild on a meadow of clover and the things that howl in the night are far off glimmers of darkness.<br/>A young man receives a flower, beautiful enough to kill, and is quietly pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Fingers in Soil

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to write something light and maybe hopeful. So I asked for prompts on tumblr. A flowery meadow where wolfsbane grows is what I got. 
> 
> Wrote it on my phone. Enjoy. Or not.

Stiles twirls the flower around in his hand, admiring the colors. It almost looks like old television back when color was first introduced.  

“It’s funny how such a pretty thing can be so toxic.”  

Chris huffs, digging his fingers into the earth around one of the plants. He’s on his knees a few feet from Stiles, harvesting the wild wolfsbane. Stiles scratches at his knee with his free hand then raises the flower up against the bright of the sun. It shines, technicolor, in the light.  

“Most of the ‘pretty things' are poisonous in nature.”  

Stiles smiles and lowers his hand to rest against his knee. The tree at his back’s bark scratches but Stiles can handle the discomfort. It’s quiet out here, peaceful.  

“Why did you bring me out here?” Stiles blurts out then bites his lip. Chris takes in a deep breath, arm flexing slowly as he moves his hand deeper into the loose soil.  

“Wolfsbane naturally grows in loose, moisture retentive soil, most commonly, it’s found in Europe and not indigenous to North America at all.”  

Stiles rolls his eyes and sighs. He’d walk over to Chris or maybe gesture wildly, pace and throw looks at him but Stiles is tired. So very tired these days.  

“I know that. And you haven’t answered my question.”  

Chris slowly pulls the wolfsbane plant out of the soil. He inspects the roots with a small frown. Stiles picks up a clod of dirt and tosses it at him. He misses by about a foot or three.

 “I’ll answer you if you can answer me this: why would aconite grow wild in a long-established pack’s territory?”  

Stiles opens his mouth to answer then closes it, frowning. He looks at the flower in his hand. Why would they let it grow here? Why wouldn’t they pull it up? How did it even get here?  

“I don’t know.”  

Chris nods, settling the plant in amongst the others he’s already pulled up. Stiles watches from the corner of his eye as Chris slowly makes his way over to Stiles. He sits down, moving carefully. Stiles doesn’t miss the gun holstered against his lower back. He looks down and twists the flower between his fingers.

 “Neither do I,” Chris says, rubbing his hands together. Dirt sprinkles down into the clovers between his knees. “Some questions cannot be answered.”  

Stiles frowns, trying not to stare at Chris’ beard.  

“We could ask Derek?”

 Chris smiles, resting his elbows on his knees.

 “Do you think his answer would make sense? And that’s assuming even he knows.”  

Stiles bites his lip, heart beating weirdly.  

"Alright. And now my answer?”  

Chris nods, scratching off dirt from his nails.

 “I thought you’d like it out here.”  

Stiles looks away, that arrhythmia getting more pronounced.

The sun filters a light chartreuse through the trees. A wind lightly ruffles the stalks of wolfsbane and causes little puffs from plants unseen to dance in the air. Birds call distantly to each other and all is relatively uneventful.  

“Yeah,” Stiles says, leaning his head on Chris’ shoulder, still twirling the flower Chris gave him between his fingers. “It’s nice.”

 Chris kisses the top of Stiles’ head before looking out at the meadow. The shade provides the perfect sanctuary from the California heat. Stiles sighs but doesn’t quite manage to smile. He’ll get there one day.

One day when he can think of Allison and not have his chest ache or when he’ll be able to look Scott in the eyes again. It’ll happen, he just needs time.


End file.
